


Castle of Glass

by hemingwaysgirl



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Depressed Peter Parker, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Man 3 Spoilers, Mental Health Issues, Minor Injuries, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-14 01:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemingwaysgirl/pseuds/hemingwaysgirl
Summary: “Pete, you alright?” Tony Stark called hesitantly.Peter almost laughed. No one ever really wants to know the true answer to that question. They just throw it out there because they need reassurance that everyone around them is okay – that outside the bubble of their own lives, nothing is amiss. Most people have their own problems and don't have the energy to deal with the darkness lingering inside of someone else. So Peter did exactly what was expected of him: he lied.“Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'm fine."Note: I changed the title from “Shatter Like Glass” to “Castle of Glass.”(03/11/2019 - I made significant changes to a couple of the paragraphs near the beginning, so I updated the publication date.)





	Castle of Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning for suicidal thoughts/idealization. 
> 
> You are never as alone as you feel. If you are having suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Hotline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

Peter studied the blue oblong antidepressant nestled between his thumb and forefinger. When grief and guilt had stolen all the color from his world, the pill had helped him emerge from the gray depths of despair. Before he had started taking it, joy had remained elusive, no matter how many times he tried to grasp it. Anxiety had tainted every good thought before it could fully form – leaving him hopeless and nauseous. His mind had tripped and spun out the dark 'truth' on a constant loop.

 

 _You_ **_are_ ** _useless_.

 

 _You_ **_are_** _weak_.

 

 _You_ **_are_** _a_ _burden_.

 

 _You_ **_failed_** _Ben_.

 

 _He_ **_died_** _because_ _of_ **_You_**.

 

 _You_ **_Will_** **_Never_** _be_ **_Okay_** _Again_.

 

 _You_ **_Don't_ _Deserve_ ** _to_ _be_ **_Okay_.**

 

He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. Existing had become too much. He had wanted everything to stop – especially the feeling of doom that had settled like a knife in the pit of his stomach. How could he survive when he couldn't complete the simplest of tasks, such as eating and sleeping?

 

One day everything had changed for the worst – well, looking back on it, Peter realized that the moment was a blessing in disguise.

 

He and May had just parked at the local Walmart, and he was so weak and sick that he couldn't see straight. On the drive over, his Aunt had kept throwing worried glances his way, but for once, she hadn't pushed him to open up. He had deflected all her previous attempts to help. (He had bluffed his way through the many doctor appointments she had set up to address his sudden weight loss, and the professionals always dismissed his issues as a common indicator of grief.)

 

Peter had refused to take the medication thrown his way – until the Grocery Store Incident.

 

He remembered stepping out of the car but nothing else. When he came to, he was wrapped around May on the asphalt, sobbing and screaming into her shoulder.

 

**_ICan'tDoThisAnymore_!!**

 

His Aunt had held him and begged the trembling teen to let her help. He had agreed – too tired to protest.

 

She drove him to a behavioral health center the following day. After a few weeks of unsuccessful therapy sessions, a psychiatrist prescribed him an antidepressant to improve his appetite and to help him function normally. The doctor explained that therapy isn’t always effective on its own. Sometimes, an additional treatment method is required. So Peter swallowed a pill along with his pride – desperate to crawl out of depression's endless void. 

 

Three weeks later, his appetite returned, and his insomnia disappeared.

 

Two months later, he walked outside and beamed as the sun kissed his hair and cheeks, basking in the feeling of calm that washed over him.

 

His anxious thoughts still lingered in the back of his mind, but they were no longer consuming him. He was finally okay -

 

Until a certain spider came along and altered important aspects of his body's chemistry.

 

 ***

 

The sudden knock on the lab's bathroom door jerked him from his thoughts, and he almost dropped the now useless pill. He wasn't sure why he had kept the prescription. The antidepressant hadn't worked at any dosage since he had been bitten by that damn spider – probably due to his superhuman metabolism. He quickly stuffed the pill back into the bottle and sighed as he pocketed it. He had gotten lost in his head. Again.

 

“Pete, you alright?” Tony Stark called hesitantly.

 

Peter almost laughed. No one ever really wants to know the true answer to that question. They just throw it out there because they need reassurance that everyone around them is okay – that outside the bubble of their own lives, nothing is amiss. Most people have their own problems and don't have the energy to deal with the darkness lingering inside of someone else. So Peter did exactly what was expected of him: he lied.

 

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute.” The words barely crawled passed the lump in his throat, but his voice sounded relatively normal – he could easily blame the slight roughness on hormones.

 

He slowly rose to his feet – using the rim of the toilet lid to hoist himself up. The urge to gag still tugged at his tongue, and he tried to breathe evenly to quell the sensation. Dry heaving always left him feeling shaky and emotional – he knew that if he didn't eat soon that he would pass out and that couldn't happen. An interrogation would most likely follow the incident and he would be unable to stave off a breakdown if Tony yelled at him for choosing not to eat. (No one ever understood that merely bringing the food to his lips made him want to throw up.)

 

And the mere thought of Tony chastising him out of disappointment brought tears to his eyes.

 

What if he took the suit away again?  Peter wouldn't blame him. If he couldn't take care of himself, how can he be expected to take care of others? Maybe he was too weak to be a superhero.

 

He retrieved the medication from his pocket and for a horrifying moment, he thought about downing the pills in one go. Maybe then they would work. He just wanted to feel better. He wanted to be better.

 

He leaned against the sink, peering at his reflection. Aside from the hollowness of his eyes, he looked like a normal, sane teenager. The revelation angered him. Shouldn't there be something else in the depths of his face that screamed despair?

 

Peter blinked at the person staring back at him, watching his mouth curl into a snarl. He smiled as the 'mirrored' Peter raised his fist, smashing the flawless glass. Blood and cracks marred the surface like a gruesome work of art. Finally, his reflection looked as shattered as he felt inside.

 

Something inside him snapped back into place, and he felt better. Not good, but better. Now his pain was on display – for all to see.

 

His legs folded beneath him, but before he could hit the ground, a pair of strong arms caught him in an awkward embrace.

 

“Pete? Buddy, what's going on?” his mentor's voice asked, sounding broken and far away. His breath hitched as he pulled Peter into his lap. “Oh, kid, what have you done, huh? Don't worry... okay? We'll fix it.” He continued to babble reassurances, a nervous habit that Peter had himself but his mentor had never displayed the same tendencies in front of him. It was unnerving.

 

Tony's uncharacteristic display of emotion broke through the peaceful numbness that had washed over him, and the anxiety that he had held at bay returned with a vengeance, leaving him keening and breathless.

 

“Hey, hey, you're okay, Pete. I'm here and I'm gonna help you now. You just have to talk to me.” Tony shifted unto his knees, one hand remaining around Peter's waist to keep him steady. “Can you stand for me, buddy? I need to clean your hand up.”

 

Peter forced himself to his feet, leaning on Tony for support as the older man led him to the closed toilet lid and urged him to sit with a soft nudge to his shoulder. As Peter changed positions yet again, the pill bottle rolled out of his pocket onto the floor. His mentor jerked at the sound and immediately bent to pick it up with shaky hands. His eyes widened for a split second as he read the label, before he glanced at Peter and nodded, his expression gentle and understanding.

 

Luckily, no shards of glass had embedded themselves within Peter's flesh, so after retrieving the first aid kit, Tony gently disinfected and wrapped up his hand, his movements jerky due to the trembling in his left hand. He ran a thumb across the bandage – taking a deep breath as if to steel himself.

 

“Come with me, kid,” he whispers hoarsely. He tugged at Peter's uninjured hand, helping him rise to his feet and wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders.

 

He sat Peter down at his work table and ordered JARVIS to open up the video feed from one of the older Iron Man suits. Peter's head felt fuzzy, as if he was watching the events from behind a TV screen. Before he knew what was happening, Tony was kneeling in front of him, cupping his cheek to get his attention.

 

“Look, Pete. I know how hard it is to talk about... well, anything others may perceive as a weakness. You're afraid people will trivialize what you're going through or won't understand or worse of all, they might not want to be around someone so messed up. I get that.”

 

Peter's eyes filled up with tears as he asked softly, hopefully, “You do?”

 

“Yep. Jarvis roll the footage.” Peter focused on the computer screen in front of him as it sprang to life, revealing a wide-eyed Tony Stark within the Iron Man suit – it was clearly an older model and the billionaire was clearly freaking out.

 

The suit whirred as it enveloped its creator. “Okay,” Tony gasped, continuing to pant as his vitals beeped frantically on the screen. “Check the heart. Is it... is it the brain?”

 

No sign of cardiac anomaly or unusual brain activity,” Jarvis replied calmly.

 

Okay, so I was poisoned?” Tony eyes darted frantically back and forth as he struggled to draw in air.

 

My diagnosis is that you've experienced a severe anxiety attack.” The AI's voice remained as steady as always, yet a sliver of reassurance bled through the mechanical voice.

 

“Me?” Tony asked incredulously.

 

He flinched when Rhodey knocked on the suit's helmet. “Come on, man, this isn't a good look. Open up,” he demanded, eyeing the crowd that had gathered behind them.

 

“Sorry, I gotta split,” Tony grunted, his voice rough with shame and residual fear.

 

The video cut after that and Peter sat slack-jawed as he tried to wrap his mind around what he had just seen.

 

Tony had moved to stand behind Peter while the clip was playing so he could watch as well. He squeezed Peter's shoulder, and the teen finally startled from his stupor.

 

“You had an anxiety attack? But you're Iron Man!” Peter blurted, even as hope flooded his heart. Maybe someone finally understood what he was going through.

 

“I'm still human, kid. And as you saw, Rhodey wasn't happy about the scene I caused.” Tony swallowed hard. “He didn't ask if I was okay. Instead, he... he just told me to get a grip because people were watching. I-I got enough of that from my father, and the fact that my best friend didn't get it – well, it--”

 

“Hurt,” Peter finished breathlessly.

 

“Yeah, it did. And I want you to know that you can open up to me... if you want. I won't judge you or belittle your problems. I just want to help. Will you let me?”

 

Peter nodded, unable to suppress the sob in his throat. He shuddered as tears slipped down his pale cheeks.

 

Tony squeezed his shoulder, then turned him around and knelt in front of him. He didn't break eye contact as he reached in his jean's pocket and pulled out the infamous bottle. “We'll start with this. I'm assuming this is the highest dosage deemed safe for the average person.”

 

Peter nodded again.

 

“And since you've had this bottle for a while and it's practically full, I'm assuming the significant change in your body's chemistry kind of rendered the meds useless.”

 

“Pretty much,” Peter agreed with a watery chuckle.

 

“Damn spiders,” Tony mumbled. “Okay, this is fixable. Bruce and I created a Super pain pill for Steve, so we should be able to do the same with other medications. It'll just take time. And there are tests out there that can help us find which meds are right for you. So, we can start with that.”

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked softly.

 

“Yeah, kid?” Tony replied warmly, brushing a thumb across the teen's cheeks and then sweeping shaky fingers through his wild curls.

 

“I'm ready to tell you... about everything... if you don't mind listening.”

 

“Of course I don't mind, you're my ki- you're my Peter,” Tony stuttered, smiling at his obvious slip up.

 

Peter grinned knowingly. He took a deep breath. “I was with Ben when he was killed.” He hung his head and swallowed down a wave of nausea. His words came out fast and slightly jumbled. “I had run away because Ben and I had a fight and...”

 

Peter choked on a sob, and Tony wrapped an arm around him. “Ben wouldn't even have been out there if it weren't for me. He had to go out and find me – he would've been safe if I had just stayed home. But I was so angry... Then, on our way home a mugger held us at gun point... Ben stepped in front of me and reached for his wallet. The mugger was strung out and thought my uncle was pulling out a gun and he shot him. And... I could've done something... I had my powers... but I just stood there and let him get shot...”

 

Once he started, everything spilled out easily. Tony never faltered, reassuring him that the only one at fault was the mugger – that his uncle wouldn't want him to blame himself. He remained sympathetic and understanding for hours – only urging Peter to stop once to eat some broth and drink a nutritional shake. Tony waited patiently as Peter slowly worked through his meal, and when he finished, he urged him to shower and change into pajamas.

 

Once Peter emerged from his bathroom, fully dressed and feeling refreshed, the engineer was sitting on the teen's bed, leaning on the headboard – staring thoughtfully at the wall. He smiled when Peter approached and patted the spot next to him, urging him to continue where he had left off.

 

Peter fell asleep five minutes after going silent – his head lolling until it rested against Tony's chest. Tony huffed in relief as the kid smiled in his sleep. He pulled Peter in closer and ran his fingers through his soft curls.

 

“You're not alone in this, kid. We'll get through this – together.”

 

His spider-kid would be okay. He would make sure of it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a kudos and/or comment if you like this work. Take care of yourselves! I appreciate each and every one of you. :)


End file.
